


In The Act

by Copgirl1964



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 00:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copgirl1964/pseuds/Copgirl1964
Summary: Breaking into Greg Lestrade's flat, Sherlock learns more about the DI than he'd bargained for.





	In The Act

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about three years ago, forgot all about it and just found it when searching for another piece of writing. It's one of my early attempts of writing Mystrade. This is not beta-ed and not exatly inventive - especially after all this time. Still, it might make some of you smile, ad that's worth publishing it now.

Sherlock slammed the laptop shut. 

“Damn!” He considered cursing useless and pedestrian, so the single curse told a lot of his current state of mind. 

Ten minutes ago Sherlock had let himself in in DI Lestrade's flat. He needed some information he knew the DI had stored on his private computer. Having observed that the man had been picked up by a black limousine, he was fairly certain he wouldn't be home for another hour. Those little kidnapping sessions of his brother were nothing but thorough.

Picking the lock had taken embarrassingly long and Sherlock had been surprised when he found a clean and tidy flat behind that door. The sofa in the living room was new and just to be on the safe side, Sherlock had risked another look at the nameplate at the door to check that he had indeed entered the right set of rooms.

Sherlock's jaw worked while he tried to decide his next move. In the past it had always been easy to tap into Greg's computer. The password usually had been one of his daughter's names, maybe extended with a birthday date, but that was it. Now he had run head-first into a security system that would tell the laptop had been booted without authorization and each password he had tried had been wrong. 

Sherlock was just considering to simply steal the laptop when he heard the door of the flat being unlocked.

Fortunately, the laptop had sat on a desk in the DI's bedroom so Sherlock wouldn't come into view right away. Still, there was nowhere to go. He looked around frantically. The only hiding-place was under the bed. He made it underneath said bed - obviously as new as the sofa, recently bought - just in time.

Maybe he was lucky and Lestrade would pick up a fresh shirt, take a shower and leave. Unfortunately for Sherlock, two people entered first the flat and moments later the bedroom. Not only did they enter the room, they made a bee-line for the bed. 

The sound of two people kissing could be heard. That and the rustling of clothes. 

Sherlock suppressed a groan. Oh no. Would he really have to listen to the DI entertaining some woman in his bed? He sincerely hoped not.

In a way, Sherlock's wish came true because quickly it became clear Greg was accompanied by a man not a woman. Expensive looking shoes came into view and the legs of equally expensive trousers. 

With a soft sound a jacket dropped to the floor, quickly followed by another jacket.

More kissing. Kissing and moaning. Two man first rubbing and eventually rutting against each other. 

Sherlock buried his face in his hands. He had always been a curious lad but the sexual activities of others had never interested him. Apparently now he would have to learn more about Greg Lestrade than he had ever cared to learn about him. Had it not been imperative that he remained unseen, Sherlock would have left his hiding-place in order not be subjected to this scenario.

“Christ, Gregory, do that again!”

Sherlock's eyes flew open and he almost gave a yelp of surprise. That voice belonged to Mycroft. But that couldn't be true. His brother didn't do relationships and neither did he have sex. It was his brother for crying out loud. 

“Ahhhh, Myc!” 

'Oh God!' It was true. Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes were going to have sex. Not only would they have sex, they would have sex in the same room Sherlock was currently in and he couldn't help but listen. 

Sherlock had read that it was possible to kill oneself by swallowing the tongue. An action worth considering, as the pile of discarded clothes next to the bed was getting bigger by the minute and the volume of groaning kept increasing. 

“Where do you want me?” Greg's voice was rough with desire.

'In the kitchen, on the balcony, in the park!' Sherlock prayed silently. Anywhere but on this bed. 

Again, Sherlock's wish came true. “Kneel down next to the bed.”

'No!'

The consulting detective almost sobbed when the Inspector's knees and thighs came into view, less than half a metre from Sherlock's face. 

With eyes big as saucers Sherlock watched in horrid fascination another pair of knees and thighs coming into view. Thighs with as many freckles as stars in the sky. Thighs he knew since he was a child. He stared at the visible parts of the men arranged directly behind one another like the proverbial rabbit at the snake. Almost literally. 

Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to flee into his mind-palace to block the sounds as well as the odour of sex but it was to no avail.

For the better part of an hour he listened to the sound of lips sucking skin, the squish of lube being applied, the slapping of skin against skin, grunting and moaning and finally shouts that heralded the orgasms of two men. Scents of sex filled his nostrils, over-imposing every other scent Sherlock had stored in his memory bank. 

Had somebody told Sherlock the rustling of sheets and the sleepy voices of Greg Lestrade and Mycroft declaring their love for each other would be the sweetest sound he heard that night, he would have laughed almost hysterically. Now he listened to the men's breathing levelling out until the sounds revealed they were sound asleep.

Ever so slowly, Sherlock crept out from underneath the bed. As quietly and as quickly as possible, Sherlock fled the premises, promising himself he would never ever break into the DI's flat again.


End file.
